


Fractured Desires

by CynicalMistrust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Castiel, Doctor/Patient, Exhibitionism, Exhibitionist Dean, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Sex Therapist Castiel, Therapy, sex therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:16:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5125475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalMistrust/pseuds/CynicalMistrust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's been suffering from ED and finally goes to a sex therapist. Dr. Castiel Novak is just what the doctor ordered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fractured Desires

**Author's Note:**

> In no way a true representation of sex therapy. 
> 
> May or may not be continued as a chapter'd piece or series.

Dean fidgeted in the waiting-room chair, glancing towards the door for the thirtieth time and debating, again, if he should just leave. This was a terrible idea. He wasn’t even in a relationship anymore, so why did it matter if he could get it up or not? Lisa had been more than understanding, but he couldn’t take feeling like he wasn’t satisfying her anymore. She deserved better. And in the end, it was honestly a relief. He cared for her, but he couldn’t see himself settling into a happy life with her.

And now here he was, waiting to see a damn sex therapist. Like he needed someone to tell him how to have sex. But Jo insisted there were underlying issues he needed to resolve that someone else would be more qualified to deal with.

“Mr. Winchester, you can go back now.”

Dean glanced up at the receptionist, taking a deep breath before heading down the hall to the specified office. He’d seen a picture of the doctor before coming here, but the man was even more striking in person. In fact, he looked like he’d just been ravished, all messy hair, top buttons of his dress shirt undone, revealing a swathe of sun-kissed chest, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. There was even the scent of air freshener in the room, or maybe it was the candle burning on the table. It smelled like rain.

The doctor smiled and stood from where he’d been sitting against the edge of his desk, offering his hand. “Hello. Would you prefer me to use your last or first name?”

Dean reflexively took the hand, blinking at the richness of the deep voice and the way it sent a tingle of pleasure down his spine. “Dean is fine.”

“Feel free to call me Cas then. Please, have a seat.”

Dean glanced around the office, at the paintings with wings and others with strange symbols. There was a framed Star Wars poster mixed in and he felt a faint tug of a smile. He settled into the plush, deep-black chair in front of the desk as Cas sat on the edge of his desk again.

Cas cleared his throat. “So Dean. I understand you’re having some difficulties? Could you give me a bit more information on what’s going on?”

Dean flushed and stared at his hands, fingers twitching and rubbing against each other. This was embarrassing as fuck, but that was nothing new. All he had to do was find the right words. “I uh… haven’t been… aroused in a while.”

“How long is a while?”

Dean shrugged, glancing towards the window and studying the mountains in the distance. “A few months. Three or four.” He saw Cas tilt his head from the corner of his eye and risked a glance at him, but there was only a thoughtful look on his face.

Cas straightened, moving around his desk to take a seat. “Do you have a partner?”

“No, not anymore. We broke up. About a month ago.” He ran a hand through his hair, his heel starting to tap against the floor with restlessness.

“Dean.”

Cas’ voice was quiet, soothing even in an odd way, and it drew Dean’s attention. “Yeah?”

“I usually work with couples. I utilize sensate focusing techniques, which require touch. Do you have anyone you would be comfortable with assisting in such a way?”

Dean licked his lips, shaking his head. “Not anyone I’m willing to ask. Can… I do it myself?”

Cas picked up his pen and leaned back in his chair. “We can try. I should make it clear the purpose of these techniques is not to achieve orgasm or arousal, but to bring awareness of your body through your senses. If you’re uncomfortable at any time, say so and we’ll stop.”

“Do we start now?” Dean shifted in his seat. He’d always been a bit of an exhibitionist. Maybe something like that would break whatever was blocking him.

Cas raised an eyebrow with a touch of amusement. “If you’d like.” He stood and motioned to the daybed on the other side of the room. He picked up a new notepad and settled in the chair nearby.

Dean stretched out on the daybed, shifting until he was comfortable and glancing towards Cas. “So uh…” He flushed again as his voice trailed off.

“Just relax.” Cas smiled and crossed his legs. “Close your eyes. Breathe.” He was silent for several breaths before speaking again. “How stressful would you say your everyday life is?”

Dean snorted quietly and shrugged. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Not too stressful.” His hands rested on his stomach, fingers twitching a bit before he started to relax. The smell of rain was stronger here and he breathed deep, melting into the cushions.

“Dean, do you feel comfortable enough to run your fingertips along your arm?” Cas’ voice had softened, a lilting quality to it that was almost hypnotic.

Dean licked his lips and nodded, keeping his eyes closed as he lifted his right arm to do as asked to his left. For once he’d forgone his leather jacket and layers; it was the heart of summer after all. He wore only a thin long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows in the heat.

“How does it feel? The skin beneath your fingers, not the touch.”

“Rough. Not warm or cold, just… body temp, I guess.” Dean frowned in concentration, running his fingers along the underside. “Smoother here.”

“Good. You can move to your chest and stomach if you’d like, but as the point is not arousal, stay away from the groin area.”

Dean nodded and kept his fingers on his arm for the moment, hearing Cas shifting in his chair. Despite not being able to get it up, he still couldn’t help but imagine what it’d be like to run his fingers through Cas’ hair, being the one to make a mess of it, wondering if it was as soft as it looked.

“Is there any problem or concern that’s been weighing on you? It doesn’t have to be recent. Even something from years ago can resurface and wreck havoc on our subconscious.”

Dean’s fingers stilled on his arm. He’d been thinking of his brother lately, ever since Sam’s twenty-first rolled around, wondering if he was okay or if he should try contacting him. It’d been five years since Sam had left to get away from their father, and him. At least that was how it felt. He should have been over it, had thought he was over it. Surely that wouldn’t be causing his issues. That was just weird.

“Dean?”

Dean tensed and shook his head. “Not anything that’s relevant.”

Cas kept quiet, the _scritch_ of his pen on paper filling the silence. “Sexual needs and desires can be inhibited if more basic needs aren’t being met,” he said. “Needs like hunger, sleep, the closeness and comfort of friends and family.”

Dean took a deep breath and let it out with a groan of frustration. “That… last one’s always been a challenge.”

Another few _scritches_. “How do you feel about that? Fears? Regrets?” A pause. “Would you rather stop with the touching?”

“No…” Dean resumed touching his arm. It eased some of the discomfort. “I guess I’m… tired of being alone.” He let out a long sigh and slid his hand to his stomach, slipping under his shirt and absently rubbing his palm against it. It felt good in a primitive way, like scratching an itch. Comforting. He wasn’t cut like an athlete, but he had defined muscles beneath his thin layer of padding, and he dug his fingers into them with another sigh.

“Did you feel alone in your previous relationship?”

Dean flinched despite the way Cas’ voice was still soft and soothing. “Yeah. I guess.” He kind of always felt alone since his brother disappeared. Sexual attraction was one thing, but even that had faded through the years beneath the stress of finding a way to live on his own. Cas though… made him want to feel that again, in a way Lisa hadn’t, which was crazy considering they’d just met. But here he was, lying on a couch, touching himself in front of another man. Without thinking, his hand slid down towards his pants.

“Stop.”

Cas’ voice cut through him with the sharp demand and he sucked in a breath, his hand going still. A pleasant warmth spread through him and he couldn’t stop a soft moan. “That uh… that felt good.” He tilted his head toward Cas when he was sure he heard the man snort. “Would you…?”

“That wouldn’t be professional, Dean. Perhaps we should stop.”

“Please?” Dean couldn’t believe how needy he sounded, but it’d been months, and here he was teetering on the edge of feeling good again. He didn’t give a fuck about professionalism.

When Cas spoke again a long moment later, his voice was rough and far deeper than before. “Touch your chest.”

Dean shivered, shoving his hand up and pushing his shirt with it. He sighed at the cool air on his stomach as he rubbed his thumb against a nipple. Tiny sparks of pleasure radiated out and to his groin and he groaned. “Feels good. Amazing.” He bit his lip as he squeezed his nipple, chest arching off the cushions. “Rather have your hands on me though.”

He cracked his eyes open when he heard a strangled sound from Cas, licking his lips as he met the man’s intense blue stare. Desire coiled in his gut and he glanced down in surprise to find he was getting aroused. He slumped onto the cushions with a laugh, pressing a hand to his face. “Fuck. You’re good.”

Cas cleared his throat. “Glad I could help. We should… stop.”

“Or you could come over here.” Dean smirked when Cas raised an eyebrow at him, propping himself up on an elbow. “Before you say it’s not professional, you cured me. So… I don’t need you as a doctor anymore. Right?” His smirk shifted to a hesitant smile as he held his hand out. “You’re hot. How about you fuck me senseless and take me out for dinner? Unless you’re attached?”

“I’m not.” Cas looked at him in amusement. “And shouldn’t dinner come first?”

“I’d rather have sex.”

Cas hummed quietly and shifted in his seat without standing, his voice deepening again as his eyes roamed Dean’s body. “Open your pants. I want to watch you touch yourself.”

Dean grumbled before stretching out again, pushing his pants down and wrapping his hand around his growing arousal. His eyes fluttered closed with a sigh, hips rocking into the touch. It’d been too long since he’d felt this.

“Wet your hand. Talk to me, Dean.”

Dean nodded, lifting a hand to his mouth and coating it with spit before wrapping it around his dick again, groaning as it slid a bit easier. “Hot and rough. Good. Real good. Thought I’d…” He trailed off with another moan, looking back to Cas and biting his tongue against begging him to join him. The intense blue gaze spiked his pleasure. He wanted Cas’ hands and lips and tongue on him and his own on Cas, wanted to feel Cas inside him, hear him panting his name. Shit, he was screwed. His hips thrust up as his orgasm hit him without warning, leaving him satiated but unsatisfied.

Cas stood, offering him a few tissues. “Better?” he asked, voice rough around the edges, the only sign he was affected at all by what just happened.

Dean sighed, cleaning himself up and fixing his pants. “A bit.” He glanced up at Cas with a faint smile. “So uh… about that dinner?”

Cas raised an eyebrow as he sat, writing something down before tearing out the paper and handing it to Dean.

Dean took it and grinned as he saw an address and a time. “Awesome. See you soon.”


End file.
